


getting away with prada

by ElasticElla



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Devil Wears Prada, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dubious Consent, F/F, Infidelity, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you the new coffee boy?” Michaela asks, sending Sam Keating a confirmation email about his and Annalise’s anniversary dinner.</p>
<p>Unfortunately he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	getting away with prada

“Are you the new coffee boy?” Michaela asks, sending Sam Keating a confirmation email about his and Annalise’s anniversary dinner. She has approximately thirty-four more tasks to complete before Annalise is to come in. With only two hours remaining, she’s hoping this is the new bearer of caffeine that Bonnie keeps swearing she’ll hire. 

“Uh no,” he says, gripping his outdated briefcase tighter, “I have an interview with Mrs. Keating?” 

Michaela is torn between laughter and crying- clearly Frank down in HR thought it’d be fun to mess with her today- when she hears Bonnie call, “She’s coming!” 

Michaela curses under her breath, rushing into Annalise’s office to neaten everything up and place the customary glass of water. She comes out and switches her shoes, approximately thirty seconds to spare. 

“Just sit at the empty desk, don’t touch anything,” she says to the tall guy, trying not to wince at his outfit. Did he even _know_ where he was?

She’s at the elevator when it opens, her boss plopping the book in her waiting arms. 

“The skirts are hideous, have Walsh send us new samples. If he doesn’t want to, remind him we have plenty of other up and coming designers to feature- including that boy that’s far too sweet for him. Oliver? He needs more polish of course, but he’s malleable. I want the mask photo redone- more masquerade, less animalistic sex party. Make sure Ms. Sutter has the house cleaned early tonight, enough so that she _won’t_ be there when you drop off the book. I want new accessories to look at for the fall spread, they’re still a little blah. And if Nate thinks he can send us the same watches he sent Vogue, he has another thing coming. Check in with Wendy about the scarves, she said her supplementary line would be in today. Who is this?” 

Michaela glared at the man, “HR’s poor idea of a joke.” 

“Indeed,” Annalise said, looking him over critically, “no matter, your choices haven’t lasted more than a week. Come in Mr.?” 

“Gibbins, Ma’am, Wes Gibbins.” 

The door shut, and Michaela just barely heard her response, “Ms. Keating will do, now why are you here?”

The rest of Michaela’s day was filled with running around since the newbie knew nothing beyond how to answer a phone- and even that was questionable. She’d have to play telephone tag later while she waited for the book, rather than repaint her toes which she’d planned for the evening. Bonnie had an extra bottle of the new holographic magnetic polish, and now it’d be another day until it was on her toes- all due to a certain Mr. Gibbins. 

He was far too close to a puppy. All smiles and eager to please manner, smart but not the helpful type for the job. He was talking about his girlfriend Laurel and how excited she’d be- she’d apparently served Annalise before and was a waitress or chef or something- and Michaela hit her limit at five pm sharp. 

She slapped the ten latest issues of Runway on his desk, “By tomorrow I expect you to know how to spell all the designers in these pages, and have an idea what they make. We cannot have you asking _Dolce & Gabbana_ how to spell their name- capiche?” 

He nodded quickly, “Of course, I’m very willing to learn-”

“Great,” she interrupted, “you’re off for the day.” 

He left with a thank you and an awkward wave, and Michaela diplomatically held her eye roll until he was long gone. The horrid dark green briefcase had to go if he ended up lasting more than forty-eight hours. 

“Michaela.” 

Straightening her skirt, she went into Annalise’s office. 

“Book us a room at the Westin for tonight, Sam unfortunately will not be able to make dinner, and I’d hate to waste the reservation. You do like sushi correct?” 

“I do,” Michaela says as if she didn’t pick the restaurant knowing Sam’s likelihood of showing up was only 4%, and she’d certainly be invited in his stead. 

“Excellent,” Annalise says, picking up her bag, “we’ll leave once you bring the book home.” Annalise pauses in the doorway, eyes flashing, “And Michaela? Wear the boots.” 

Michaela doesn’t bother with an affirmation, her boss and lover already gone. Instead she sits at Annalise’s desk with a smile and begins calling back all the assistants Gibbins talked to earlier. She supposes he isn’t that bad- far better than the Millstone kid who tried to buy the job- and with any luck, soon he’ll be the one stuck waiting for the book and she’ll be out with Annalise earlier.


End file.
